"When the travelers threw up their hoods, which as mourners they had worn over their faces, I could not help exclaiming, 'Alas, for the glory of Scotland, that this goodly group of stout young men rather wear the cowl than the helmet!' 'How!' asked their principal (who did not appear to have seen thirty years), 'do we not pray for the glory of Scotland? Such is our weapon.' 'True,' replied I, 'but while Moses prayed Joshua fought. God gives the means of glory that they should be used.' 'But for what, old veteran,' said the monk, with a penetrating look, 'should we exchange our cowl for the helmet? knowest thou anything of the Joshua who would lead us to the field?' There was something in the young priest's eyes that seemed to contradict his pacific words; they flashed as impetuous fire. My reply was short: 'Are you a Scot?' 'I am, in soul and in arms.' 'Then knowest thou not the chief of Ellerslie?' As I spoke, for I stood close to the bier, I perceived the pall shake. The monk answered my last question with an exclamation—'You mean Sir William Wallace!'
"'Yes!' I replied. The bier shook more violently at these words, and, with my hair bristling from my head, I saw the pall hastily thrown off, and a beautiful youth, in a shroud, started from it, crying aloud, 'Then is our pilgrimage at an end! Lead us to him!'
"The monk perceived my terror, and hastily exclaimed. 'Fear not! he is alive, and seeks Sir William Wallace. His pretended death was a stratagem to insure our passage through the English army; for we are soldiers like yourself.' As he spoke, he opened his gray habit, and showed me the mailed tartans beneath."
"What, then!" interrupted Murray, "these monks were my faithful clansmen?"
"The same," replied Stephen; "I assured them that they might now resume their own character; for all who inhabited the valley we were then in were true, though poor and aged Scots. The young had long been drafted by Edward's agents, to fight his battles abroad.
"'Ah!' interrupted the shrouded youth, 'are we a people that can die for the honor of this usurper, and are we ignorant how to do it for our country? Lead us, soldier of Wallace,' cried he, stepping resolutely on the ground, 'lead us to your brave master; and tell him that a few determined men are come to shed their blood for him and Scotland.'
"This astonishing youth (for he did not appear to be more than fifteen) stood before me in his robes of death, like the spirit of some bright-haired son of Fingal. I looked on him with admiration; and explaining our situation, told him whither Wallace was gone, and of our destination to await him in the forest of Glenfinlass.
"While your brave clansmen were refreshing themselves, we learned from Kenneth, their conductor, that the troop left Bothwell under expectation of your soon following them. They had well under expectation of our soon following them. They had not proceeded far before their scouts perceived the outposts of the English, which surrounded Cartlane Craigs; and to avoid this danger, they took a circuitous path, in hopes of finding some at the western side of the craigs. Kenneth knew the abbot; and entering it under covert of the night, obtained permission for his men to rest there. The youth, now their companion, was a student in the church. He had been sent thither by his mother, a pious lady, in the hope that, as he is of a very gentle nature, he would attach himself to the sacred tonsure. But courage often springs with most strength in the softest frames.
"The moment this youth discovered our errand he tried every persuasion to prevail on the abbot to permit him to accompany us. But his entreaties were vain, till wrought up to vehement anger he threatened that if he were prevented joining Sir William Wallace, he would take the earliest opportunity to escape, and commit himself to the peril of the English pikes.
"Seeing him determined the abbot granted his wish; 'and then it was,' said Kenneth, 'that the youth seemed inspired. It was no longer an enthusiastic boy we saw before us, but an angel, gifted with wisdom to direct and enterprise to lead us. It was he proposed disguising ourselves as a funeral procession; and while he painted his blooming countenance of a death-like paleness and stretched himself on this bier, the abbot sent to the English army to request permission for a party of monks to cross the craigs to the cave of St. Colomba, in Stirlingshire, whither they carried a dead brother to be entombed. Our young leader hoped we might thus find an opportunity to apprise Wallace we were friends, and ready to swell the ranks of his little armament.